


Connected

by scottmcniceass



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-23
Updated: 2013-10-23
Packaged: 2017-12-30 07:09:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1015648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scottmcniceass/pseuds/scottmcniceass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fed up with Zayn and Liam skirting around how they feel about each other, the rest of the band devise a plan to get them to own up to their feelings.</p>
<p>(Or, Zayn and Liam are oblivious and annoying, the rest of the band can't handle it anymore, and handcuffs were probably not intended to be used this way.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay. So this fic is dedicated completely to [Lea](http://wafflehood.tumblr.com/), who is the light of my life. It's her birthday and I wanted to do something for her, and this is the only thing I could think of. I seriously hope you like it, darling, and I hope you have the happiest of birthdays because you deserve it more than anyone else I know!
> 
> Anyways, this is just extremely fluffy and cutesy, mostly.

 

 

"Give it up for Zayn!"

Liam's voice rings in his ears, and Harry grins as he leans forward, looking past Niall to Zayn. This far away, there's no way anyone who isn't on stage can see it, but Harry can. The red flush in Zayn's cheeks, the proud but hesitant, almost embarrassed look in his eyes.

And then he looks to Liam, who's grinning wide and unabashedly in a way that only Liam can, and only for Zayn. They hold each other's gaze for a beat, then another, even as Louis moves between them, trying to get Liam's attention.

There's something so innocent and special exchanged in that moment that Harry knows he'll never fully understand, because it's not something that can be shared or explained, it's something that can only be felt between the two of them. And it would be really adorable, it would, if this didn't happen nearly every single night they're on stage.

But it does, and at this point it's starting to get mildly irritating. Not because he thinks there's anything wrong with the two of them and what they feel (what they so clearly feel, that everyone can see, literally  _everyone_  who's ever spent two minutes with the two of them together) but because the two of them are completely oblivious to it, somehow.

It's ridiculous.

And when they get off stage, and Liam puts a sweaty arm around Zayn's shoulder, drawing him in, Harry rolls his eyes at the two of them and shoulders past. It used to be tolerable, their relationship, but it's gotten to the point where even he can't stand the sexual tension anymore. Something's got to give, something has to change, because it's starting to get under his skin, too.

 

 

-o-

"Don't poke me," Louis hears Liam say, and it's with a morbid fascination that he turns in Liam's direction, because he already knows what he's going to find and yet he looks anyways.

Ugh.

"Can you two stop fooling around for five damn seconds?" he demands.

They're backstage of some talk show, Louis has no idea which. He stopped paying attention to details years ago. And does it even matter? They'll ask a few questions, the boys will attempt to answer but mostly just do their best to make everyone's jobs difficult, and then they'll be out of here, probably to never return.

It's not the impending interview that's getting on his nerves, though. Of course it's not. The interviews are just another part of the job, and sometimes they're even fun. What  _is_  getting on his nerves happens to be sitting on a sofa, arms around each other, giggling like freaking  _school children_.

Their relationship is a damn sickness. It's either amazing or disturbing, he's yet to decide, watching Liam—grown, manly, masculine Liam— fall over himself for the sake of making Zayn smile. (At this point, he's leaning more towards disturbing.)

Of course, neither of them answers him. Neither of them even seems to hear the damn question, actually. Zayn's too busy trying to steal Liam's bag of chocolate covered pretzels, and Liam's too busy giggling and trying to hold them away from him while simultaneously leaning against Zayn's entire fucking body. (So counterproductive, Liam.)

"Give me one," Zayn orders, falsely authoritative and way too serious to be genuine.

"What's in it for me?" Liam asks, and Louis' eyebrows rise.  _Really_ , Liam? Are they even aware they're flirting at this point, or are the two of them really  _that_  daft?

Zayn takes that moment to pinch Liam's side, and the bag nearly topples from his fingers as he writhes on the sofa, laughing almost painfully hard. Zayn doesn't stop his assault, even though Louis can see tears forming in Liam's eyes.

"I'll stop tickling you," Zayn offers.

" _Zayn_ ," Liam cries, but he's still laughing and  _still_  holding the snack away from him. And somehow he manages to grab a fistful of Zayn's shirt, tugging until the two of them are suddenly tipping over, falling to the ground in a heap that leaves the pretzels crushed under their bodies, with Zayn on top and Liam panting underneath him.

The two of them sit there for a moment, statue still aside from the rising and falling of their chests. Liam's eyes are impossibly wide, and Zayn's biting his lip. Louis stands up with a huff of breath, kicking his chair lightly for emphasis. "You two are terrible," he snaps before leaving the room in search of fresh air that doesn't threaten to strangle him with sexual tension.

 

 

-o-

 

Ah, man. Ah, man. Not again. Not  _again_.

Niall instantly starts to back out of the room, but he's not fast enough. Zayn and Liam, sprawled out on Zayn's bed (he and Niall are sharing, even though it would have made more sense for the two of them to just share their room, because this  _always_  happens anyways), look up before he can pull the door closed.

There's a bowl of popcorn between them and some movie playing on the TV even though it's almost completely muted. "Wanna watch it with us?" Liam asks. "We're only a few minutes in."

Zayn's eyes narrow at the suggestion, even if he keeps a warm smile on his face. Something about that look screams  _say no_ , and it's a little too murderous for Niall to consider arguing. Not that he'd  _want_  to stay and be their third wheel. He definitely doesn't wanna do that again.

"Nah, I'm good," he says. "Thanks."

"Are you sure?" Liam asks. "We don't—"

"He said he doesn't want to," Zayn says sharply. More gently, he adds, "Wanna pass me a piece of popcorn, babe?"

Liam bites his lip and nods, reaching into the bowl. Zayn parts his lip and Niall's nose wrinkles as he watches Liam carefully place the single piece of popcorn on Zayn's tongue. He also watches Zayn's lips close around Liam's fingers, and somehow he hears Liam's soft gasp even from the other side of the room.

And that's about all he can take. He's happy for the two of 'em, he really is. He doesn't think he's met two people who deserve something like that more than Zayn and Liam, except, you know, they refuse to acknowledge it, and it's getting annoying.

Also scarring. If Niall walks in on the two of them again, doing some cutesy couple-y crap, he's gonna throw something at them, he really is.

He was kinda looking forward to spending the night in his room, too, but now he obviously can't. Not without barfing or getting murdered by Zayn, anyways. So he continues down the hall, heading for Harry's room only to find Louis already in there, the two of them almost in the exact same position as Zayn and Liam.

The only difference is that Louis instantly scoots over, and Harry lifts the bowl of popcorn to allow room for him to fit between them. He goes and squeezes into it right away, resting his head on Harry's shoulder as Louis pats his thigh.

"What's wrong?" Louis asks, eyes on the TV screen but his attention really on Niall, or so the genuinely concerned tone of his voice suggests.

"They're doing it again," Niall complains. "In  _our_  room this time."

"Who's doing what?" Harry asks with a frown.

"Zayn and Liam." That's all Niall says, but it's enough to make Louis and Harry groan instantly. "Yeah, exactly. You try having to share a room with that."

"Oh," Harry says, nodding knowingly. He puts the bowl of popcorn on Niall's lap and grabs a handful. "It was kinda sweet at first," he says, tossing a piece or two back, talking with his mouth full, "but now it's a little annoying. How long can they really go without realizing it?"

"Pretty fucking long, apparently," Louis huffs. "The other day, before that interview, you should have seen them. They practically fucked on the floor. I mean, they definitely eye-banged, at the very least. Right in front of me. Right in front of, like, two freaking staff members. I felt  _violated_."

"Somethin's gotta be done," Niall adds. "I can only handle so much, y'know?"

"You're right," Louis says slowly. He mutes the TV, a grin slowly spreading onto his face. "You're absolutely right."

"Louis," Harry says warningly, but Niall's already nodding raptly, waiting to hear whatever plan Louis had clearly thought up in the last five seconds.

"I have an idea," Louis says, ignoring Harry. "What if we…"

 

 

-o-

 

Something's up. Liam has never considered himself to be the smartest person, but he's not  _stupid_. And he's spent way too much time with his four boys in the last couple years not to pick up on the tension in the air. It's like the calm before a storm, like electricity crackling in the air but the lightening hasn't struck down  _just yet_.

It's in the way Louis smirks at him during Zayn's solo, and the way Harry's nervously fidgeting and his lips keep twitching. It's in the way Niall won't stop laughing at  _everything_  (not uncommon, admittedly, but it's a little much tonight, even for him) every single time Liam meets his eyes. Something about their behavior is putting him on edge, and Zayn seems to feel the same way because he's beside Liam all night, hands on Liam's waist, or the small of his back, or playing with the short hairs at the nape of his neck just once.

Liam grabs the nearest water bottle, uncapping the lid and losing it somewhere on stage almost immediately. He's trying to follow choreography— Oh, who is he kidding. They don't do that anymore. He's trying to dance around the stage for fun because he's a little too hyped up to sit still, and he's moving steadily in Louis' direction as Louis watches Niall, enraptured as he and Harry giggle and read out twitter questions.

Without even thinking, Liam flicks his bottle of water in Louis' direction, and he laughs at the way Louis' eyes widen as he turns before narrowing when they land on Liam. "You're lucky that's not holy water," Liam tells him. "What are you up to?"

Louis goes from murderous to smug in seconds. "Nothing," he says sweetly. "Why do you ask?"

Fingers easily extract the bottle of water from his hands, and he watches as Zayn brings it to his lips, tilting his head back to take a long sip. He can clearly see the way Zayn's throat works as he swallows, Adam's apple bobbing, neck veins sticking out prominently. Unconsciously, Liam swallows too, pulling his gaze away, not thinking about Zayn swallowing anything, or the fact that Liam's lips were on that bottle seconds ago, and now Zayn's are.

Liam definitely doesn't think about it.

Instead he focuses on the show, even if Louis, Harry and Niall are being weird all night.  _Zayn_  isn't, thankfully. He's right there every time Liam needs him to be, belting along to the song or fooling around with Louis or meeting Liam's eyes, or coming up behind him to put a comforting hand somewhere on Liam's body.

(Not that Liam needs comforting. He really doesn't. But there's something about Zayn always being there that Liam  _does_  need. It's not a gesture of 'Are you okay?' it's just a friendly reminder, a little touch of acknowledgement that says 'I'm still right here. Always right here' that calms when he doesn't even need calming.)

By the time the show ends, Liam pushes the others from his mind because, really, whatever they're up to? He'll find out soon enough. He's too sweaty and exhausted and hyped up, all at the same time, to care.

"You  _killed_  it," Zayn says to him, slinging an arm around his shoulders. "Like always."

Liam's cheeks warm. Getting praise from Zayn is different than getting it from anyone else. It's not exactly a compliment, is the thing. Zayn doesn't sound  _awed_  by him. He doesn't sound impressed, like he can't believe how good Liam did. He sounds like he always does, so casual, like Liam doing good isn't something that needs to be made a production of, because Liam doing good is just something that  _happens_ , all the time, like it's expected and Liam doing  _bad_  would surprise him.

Zayn has a lot of confidence in Liam, and sometimes Liam needs that. He knows he's good, but Zayn reminds him in the easiest, most unobtrusive way that he thinks Liam's  _great_.

"You did so good, Liam," Louis mocks, pitching his voice lower than usual. He cups both sides of Niall's face, a mushy, exaggerated look on his own. "I'll write a hundred sonnets in your honor but my words will never do you justice."

"Oh,  _Zayn_ ," Niall cries, lifting a hand to his forehead as he pretends to faint. "You're just so gosh darn sweet to me."

"Pretty sure my voice doesn't sound like that," Liam points out, completely unoffended. They always get like this, but Liam doesn't take it to heart. He mocks them, too. Mocks Harry and Niall, or Louis and Zayn whenever they get too affectionate. "And I'm not from Alabama."

"Fuck off," Zayn adds with a roll of his eyes.

"Oh, Zayn," Niall coos again. "You're always defending little ol' me from our mean bandmates."

"You're so muscular and defenseless," Louis baritones. "I'll rescue you, baby."

"You know," Liam muses, "that kind of does sound like you, Zayn."

Zayn raises his eyebrows, pulling Liam so they're mirroring Louis and Niall. Zayn leans into him, breath splaying over Liam's lips. "I'll rescue you, baby," he copies, and the whole thing goes from absolutely hilarious to not funny at  _all_. Like, wow.

"Gross," Niall says. "You two just had to take it to that level, didn't you?"

"I— what?" Liam giggles, playing it off like a joke, but it sort of wasn't. Or the way Liam's stomach twist when Zayn gets too close isn't, anyways. The rest of it was  _supposed_  to be. "We just did what you two were mocking us for!"

Louis glares at him, too, and Liam takes a step back, right into Zayn's outstretched arm, which wraps instantly around him. "Plan Cuff," Louis snaps cryptically.

"Wait, now?" Harry demands. "We were gonna wait until tomorrow, I thought."

"Now," Niall says. "They're makin' me sick. Better get it over with before I upchuck."

"No, wait," Louis retracts. "We'll do it after. I have the perfect idea."

Liam eyes them all warily. "What are you planning?" he asks. "It's not funny. Tell me."

Zayn's fingers squeeze into his hip, and this time it  _is_  comfort, a promise that whatever the hell the three of them are up to, Zayn'll be there to see him through it.

"Don't worry," Louis answers ominously, "you'll both see soon enough."

Liam gulps audibly.

Together they all leave the venue, stepping outside to the screaming of almost as many fans as there had been at the concert itself. It's deafening in the best way (right now, at least, but if he's tired enough it goes from amazing to annoying pretty fast), but they don't get to stop and sign anything or take any pictures. They're instantly ushered into separate vehicles, Liam, Louis and Niall in one, Harry and Zayn in another.

The drive to the hotel is mostly quiet. Louis and Niall are sitting in the backseat, having a silent conversation that Liam can't figure out, no matter how hard he tries. They both look at him every so often, and each time Liam turns away, nervously biting at his thumb nail.

Just like at the venue, there are more fans out front of the hotel. This time they're allotted a few minutes to sign things, stop and say hello before they're once again pushed forward into the quiet safety of the nearly empty hotel lobby.

Unlike with the cars, the five of them pile into the same elevator while their security staff goes off and does whatever it is they do when they're not needed.(Do they get a hotel room of their own? Do they go back to their bus? Do they cease to exist until they're needed again? Liam really doesn't know, and no one ever answers when he asks.)

Louis' left to hit the button for their floor, which means he hits about six other buttons unnecessarily and the elevator doors slide shut before they jolt uneasily upwards.

"Plan Cuff," Louis says instantly.

"In the elevator?" asks Harry. "Are you sure that's safe?"

"What the fuck is Plan Cuff?" Zayn demands. There's an irritated note in his voice, and Liam doesn't blame him. He's starting to get annoyed, too. He hates being on the outside at any given time, but this is different. When you're on the outside with the band, it usually means someone's about to pour shaving cream in your shoes, or shave off half your eyebrow.

"Harry, get Zayn," Louis says quickly. "Niall, help me with Liam."

"What are you—" Liam's question is cut off when he finds himself being slammed forcefully into the wall of the elevator. Niall and Louis instantly pin his arms down, one of Louis' hands gripping the back of his neck painfully, pushing his face into the wall.

Out of the corner of his eye, he can sort of see Harry doing much of the same to Zayn, only it looks a lot more gentle. It  _sounds_  a hell of a lot more violent, though, because Zayn is spitting out a chorus of impressive curses as he tries to scramble out of Harry's grasp.

Liam doesn't bother. Instead he calmly, lowly orders, "Let me go. Right. Now."

"Your scary voice has never worked on me, Liam," Louis reminds him. The elevator dings as they reach their floor, but he literally can't move, let alone get off the elevator. "Niall, handcuffs please."

"Just a second," Niall grunts, adjusting his grip on Liam's arm.

And the words sink into Liam's mind. "Handcuffs?" he asks, frantic. "What are you doing with handcuffs? Louis, this isn't a game. Don't you fucking—"

"It's for your own good," Louis tells him, just as he pulls Liam's arm behind his back, pushing it up until he yelps in pain.

"Be fucking gentle with him," Zayn hisses. "Don't break his arm, you shit."

"Sorry," Louis says, sounding sincere. "Didn't mean to. Liam, hold still. You can fight all you want, but this only has one outcome, so let's get to it without anyone getting hurt, yeah?"

Deep down, Liam knows Louis is right. Whatever he plans to do, fighting it is futile. Louis is too stubborn and too sneaky for his own good, and if Liam gets away from him now, it'll only be a matter of time before Louis revises his plan and gets him anyways. Best to just… get it over with.

"Fine," he sighs. "Do whatever you're going to do."

Which he does a second later, securing a handcuff around Liam's right wrist. He tightens it, tugs at it, and Liam leans against the wall with wide eyes.  _Handcuffs_. Louis is  _handcuffing_  him? Why? What the hell is he possibly trying to accomplish?

He waits for Louis to secure the other cuff to his other hand, but it doesn't happen. Instead Liam sees Zayn getting dragged closer, struggling a lot more than Liam had bothered to, and it clicks into place just as the other handcuff clicks into place around Zayn's left hand.

Oh.

_Oh_.

"There we go," Louis says. "You can let them go now."

The pressure holding Liam against the elevator wall disappears, and he goes to turn around but instead he gets tangled up in Zayn, elbows knocking, bodies colliding. He stops, looking down at their conjoined wrists, and frowns at the handcuffs.

"You didn't," Zayn breathes, following Liam's train of sight. He whips around, tugging Liam's arm painfully as he goes. "Get this off me! Right now, or so help me—"

The elevator dings again, and Louis steps backwards out of it and onto their floor with a grin, holding up a tiny, silver key between the tips of his thumb and forefinger. "No can do," he says, not apologetic in any way. "You two are getting on everyone's nerves. Until you resolve whatever's between you—" he waves a hand "— you're stuck together."

"Louis," Zayn growls. "Give me the fucking key."

"Come and get it," Louis taunts, holding it out in front of him.

It happens almost in slow motion, like a car crash or an epic fight scene. Liam watches Louis' eyes widen comically first, and then he watches the light glint off the silver key as it falls, turning over and over in the air as it goes. As it falls, everything goes quiet, as if they're all holding their breath.

And because this is his life, and it's obviously a joke or a really bad rom-com, it falls into the sliver of space between the elevator and their floor. There's a ding of metal on metal, a following series of clinking sounds, and then nothing.

"Oh, shit," Niall says, breaking the resounding silence.

"Did you just – Was that the key?" Harry blurts.

Louis darts a look between Liam and Zayn, and then bolts, sprinting off to the left of the elevator shouting, "Don't let them kill me, Niall, I'm worth too much money and I'm way too pretty to die yet!"

Liam is too shocked to move. He stands there, gaping at Niall and Harry, separated by the lip of the elevator. Zayn seems to be in the same position, frozen and tensed next to him. Slowly, the doors begin to close, locking the two of them inside the elevator with Niall and Harry outside and no one doing anything to stop it.

The elevator starts moving, and Liam cautiously lifts his hand, watching as Zayn's goes with it, limply lifting a few inches higher than it had been. The cuffs aren't exactly uncomfortable, really, but…

"I can't believe they handcuffed us together," Liam says dumbly. "I just – I can't believe it."

"I can't believe they lost the fucking key," Zayn spits. He rubs his freehand over his face and reaches to hit the button for their floor. "They better have a backup. This is insane."

Liam nods, too stunned to do much else as the elevator moves back to their floor. When the doors open again, Zayn stomps out, pulling Liam unceremoniously behind him. He has to jog to keep up because Zayn's angry. Normally he walks at a slow, relaxed gape, like the type of person who stops and appreciates the little things that a lot of people miss because they're going too fast. But when he's angry, Zayn is quick, sharp movements and narrowed shoulders and glares for anyone who meets his eyes.

He pounds on the door to Louis' room, loud enough that a woman across the hall opens her door to check what's going on. She rolls her eyes at Liam and mutters something that sounds like, "Spoiled popstars," to his ears, but he pretends it doesn't.

"I'm gonna actually kill him this time, I think," Zayn says, sounding surprised. "I actually think I might do it, Liam."

"Um, could you maybe not kill anyone while we're still handcuffed together?" he asks, a little timid. Zayn might not be mad at him specifically, but that fact doesn't make him any less terrifying, truth be told.

"Right." Zayn nods. "I can do that." He kicks the door. "The longer you keep me out here, the angrier I'm getting, Louis!"

The door finally opens, revealing a sheepish looking Harry with his hands already raised, trying to diffuse the tension before they've even entered the room. Zayn doesn't give him much of a chance; he shoves Harry roughly out of the way with a glare and a short, "You're an accomplice. Don't think I don't blame you just as much."

Harry rubs at his shoulder and pouts as Zayn strides across the room with Liam in toe to bang on the bathroom door this time. "Give me the key and I'll forgive you," he shouts through it. "That's all you gotta do, Louis."

"See," Louis says, voice muffled, "that's sort of the issue."

In his peripheral vision, Liam can see Harry slowly backing towards the door to the hallway. "What's the issue, exactly?" Zayn asks, adopting that same careful calm that Liam does when he's super close to breaking something.

"There was only one key," Niall says. He, like Louis, is hiding behind the locked bathroom door.

Zayn is close enough to him (thanks to the handcuffs) for Liam to feel the waves of anger radiating off him. Suddenly that crackling electricity from the stage strikes as Zayn kicks at the bathroom door. "That" kick "was the only" kick "fucking  _key_?!"

Which means they're stuck like this, for the time being. Until they get another key, or find some other way to get the handcuffs off, he and Zayn are stuck like this, connected by a few short inches of metal that dangles between their hands.

Shit.

But Zayn kicking down the door isn't going to help that. And Zayn strangling their bandmates to death isn't going to help that, either. So Liam links their connected hands together and uses his other to grab Zayn and pull him away from the door until they're facing each other and he has to go through Liam to get to the door.

"Zayn," he says calmly, "relax."

"Relax," Zayn says breathlessly. "They handcuffed us together, Liam! This is psychotic!"

"You're psychotic," Louis calls through the door. "Serious anger issues, Zayn. You should get that checked out."

"I'm gonna check out your face with my foot if you –"

"It's really not that bad," Liam blurts.

Zayn closes his mouth with an audible clack of his teeth, and everyone else is quiet. Liam shrinks in on himself, shoulders hunching and head ducking because, yeah, that sounded stupid, and Zayn's looking at him like he should  _feel_  stupid, and Zayn doesn't ever give him that look, really. It hurts.

He seems to get that, because it softens almost instantly. "It is, though," he argues anyways. He uselessly jingles their handcuffs. "We're stuck like this."

"Obviously it's not the greatest thing," Liam admits, "but it's not the end of the world. It's not like they handcuffed you to a stranger, Zayn. It's just me. We spend all our time together anyways, right? It's not  _that_  big of a deal. Not worth murdering anyone, anyways."

"Listen to him," Louis coaxes. "Smart lad, Liam. Levelheaded. I like that."

"I'm still pissed at you, too," Liam calls through the door.

"Oh. Forget I said anything."

Liam truly wishes that were possible.

"Whatever," he sighs. "We'll just – we'll deal with this for tonight, and tomorrow we'll go to the shop where they bought these and we'll get another pair and use the key from those ones to get them off. It won't be that bad."

Zayn nods slowly. "Okay," he says, taking a deep breath. "I guess it's not that big of a deal, then."

The bathroom door slowly inches open, and Louis peeks just his head out. "So now would not be the time to tell you that I ordered those specially for comfort fitting online a while ago, and you can't just go out and buy a pair from anywhere, is it?"

Liam smiles tightly and steps out of the way. Zayn instantly follows his line of thinking, lunging at Louis, but the door shuts between them before he can hit his mark as Louis tugs it closed with a squeak. Zayn body checks it, heaving Liam forward as he does.

Already his wrist is starting to hurt, and it's only been  _minutes_. How are they going to handle this for – Hell, who knows how long?

In that time, Harry has pulled open the door to the room, and he's in the hallway, starting to pull it closed already. "This is for your own good, you know," he says gently. "Maybe it'll help you both realize some things."

Zayn glares at him. "All it's made me realize is how much I want to  _stab you_   _three_."

Harry shrugs, a little sheepish, before shutting the door. Liam stares at it for a long moment, calming his own breathing because, right now, they don't need his anger in the mix. Zayn's is more than enough, and if he doesn't work on calming them both down, someone might  _actually_  get hurt. (Louis.)

"Come on," Liam says. "Let's just go to my room. We'll deal with this tomorrow. Nothing we can do right now."

"I could kill them," Zayn argues. "I could do that right now."

"You're too pretty for prison, Zayn," Louis says through the door. "You'd be someone's bitch."

Zayn opens his mouth to respond to that, but Liam shakes his head and gently pulls him along towards the door. The material covering the cuffs rubs uncomfortably against his wrist, and this is going to be a seriously long night. But it'll be even longer if he allows Zayn to stay here and shout through the door at Louis and Niall all night, so they might as well head to his room, relax, and figure this out in the morning.

"Sometimes it's funny," Zayn says as they walk. "You know? Sometimes Louis does stupid shit, and it's hilarious. But sometimes it's  _not_."

And that, Liam thinks, sums Louis up perfectly.

Very quickly, Liam is learning just how screwed they are. They get to his door, and he digs in his left pocket before he realizes his keycard is actually in his  _other_  pocket, which wouldn't be a big deal, normally. But now he can't get his right hand deep enough in his pocket to grasp it because of the cuffs, and using his other hand is really awkward and uncomfortable, and it takes him more than an entire minute to finally get the card out.

"Ready to let me kill them yet?" Zayn asks sweetly.

"Not just yet," Liam says as he unlocks the door.

His room is fairly cold inside, and he knows whose fault that is. Zayn isn't even sharing with him, but before they'd left the venue he'd come in for a minute and the second thing he'd done (after pushing open the curtains) was turn the thermostat down. Zayn likes the cold; Liam doesn't. But he does like cuddling up under the blankets to stay warm (with Zayn) so there's that, at least.

"We can watch a movie," Liam suggests, because Zayn still looks irritated and upset, wrinkles in his forehead and his lips pressed into a hard line.

"Sure, whatever," Zayn says shortly.

"Zayn," Liam sighs. "If I'm stuck handcuffed to you for… who knows how long, d'you think maybe you could not be miserable the entire time? I mean, is it really  _that_ bad, being tied to me?"

Zayn pulls him to a stop, his gaze dropping to the ground as he shuffles his feet. Slowly, he looks up at Liam with an apology etched into his features. "Nah," he says softly. "It's not that bad." He yanks, and Liam has no choice but to stumble forward. Zayn catches him before he falls off balance with his freehand on Liam's hip. "I can definitely see the pros, at least."

Liam focuses on not flushing, but he can't exactly push Zayn away, can he? He wouldn't go very far if Liam tired, anyways. "Exactly," he says calmly. "We'll just deal with it, that's all."

Zayn's thumb is rubbing circles on his hip over his t-shirt, and Liam's mind blanks. "We gonna set up the movie, babe?" he asks.

Liam nods numbly. "Yeah, um. Yeah. We should – snacks. I'm hungry. You should order something to eat while I'm doing that."

Zayn pointedly eyes the TV first, with the DVD player in the stand under it, and then turns his gaze to the room's phone, sitting on the bedside table on the other side of the room. "How about we order room service, then set up the movie?"

"Right," Liam sighs. "This is going to make everything difficult."

Zayn's fingers graze his own as he pulls Liam along to the phone, and Liam grins in spite of himself. "Just wait until one of us has to go to the bathroom," he gests, and Liam's smiles falls away.

"I think I'm ready to let you kill them now."

But really, it's not that bad, actually. They probably would have stayed in and watched a movie anyways. The only difference is that they're forced to sit a little closer than usual on the bed (how horrible) and eating popcorn gets a little difficult. Every time Liam reaches for it, Zayn's hand comes with his and nearly tips the bowl over. And every time Zayn unconscious goes to scratch the back of his neck, the same thing happens.

Aside from that, it's a typical night in, if you ignore the whole handcuffed together thing.

Liam has no idea what time it is when Zayn starts yawning. They're about two-thirds of the way through the movie, though, and by the fourth time Zayn yawns, Liam starts yawning, too. He can see Zayn's eyelids getting heavier, opening a little less each time he blinks, and he takes pity on him. Zayn is never the first one to propose going to bed. Even when he's completely exhausted, he's stubborn enough to wait until Liam asks first, and then he'll groan and roll his eyes and say  _okay, if we have to_.

Moving the bowl of popcorn first, Liam elbows him gently in the side. "Come on," he says. "Let's go to bed."

Zayn yawns again as he rolls his eyes. "Fine," he groans. "I don't have any of my stuff here, though. It's all in my room with Harry."

"I have an extra tooth brush," Liam says, as they try to figure a way off the bed without anyone falling. In the end Zayn climbs off his side and Liam has to crawl across the bed and follow behind him. "And you can borrow a pair of my sweats."

"Okay." Zayn lets Liam guide him to where he'd left his bag, and once Liam's pulled out clothes and his smaller bag of toiletries, Zayn randomly tugs at the right sleeve of Liam's shirt. "How are we gonna get our shirts off?"

And— that is a very good question. There  _isn't_  a way, is there? Not without cutting them off with, like, scissors or something. But if they do that, how will they get another shirt back on? "Shit," Liam says.

"This is so bullshit," Zayn grumbles. "Fuck."

"We'll figure out something tomorrow," Liam says, reminding himself not to get worked up, too. "It'll be fine," he says, for what feels like the hundredth time. "Totally fine."

Zayn looks doubtful, but he doesn't bother arguing.

It's sort of domestic, and awkward, getting ready for bed. Their elbows keep knocking as they brush their teeth, and Zayn keeps snorting laughter and making faces at Liam in the mirror. He's in a good mood right now, Zayn, the ridiculous situation they're in forgotten for the time being, apparently. Liam loves when he gets like this, because Zayn can rival Louis sometimes, can get just as hyper and silly and slightly more adorable.

Getting dressed is less domestic and a lot more awkward. Zayn makes Liam go first, and Liam's red as he fumbles with the button on his jeans because, in order to get his hands close enough to the zipper to get it undone, Zayn's  _also_  has to get that close, bumping against his thigh the whole time.

They've changed in front of each other millions of times, but being handcuffed together sort of makes it a lot… more. Liam's not sure  _what_  is more, but something definitely is. Because they have to be close while they're doing it, and the links between both cuffs isn't very long, so even as Liam pushes his jeans down, Zayn's knuckles are brushing his bare skin and –

No, please don't get a boner. Don't get a boner. He doesn't need that right now. He  _really_ doesn't need that right now.

Liam hastily pulls his sweats up, and then clears his throat before saying, "Okay, your turn."

Zayn tugs at the cuffs as he unzips his own jeans, and now it's  _Liam's_  knuckles brushing  _Zayn's_  bare hip as he shimmies out of his jeans. It's even worse when he's pulling on his sweats, because Liam's hand keeps rubbing against his thighs even though they're squeezed into fists, and there's a faint, barely noticeable redness in Zayn's cheeks, like there sometimes is after a good show he'd spent running around the stage.

"It shouldn't be awkward," Zayn huffs, adjusting the sweats so they sit more comfortably, tightening the drawstring just a bit. "I mean, it's _us_. You and me. It shouldn't be awkward."

He's right. If there's anyone in the world that Liam could possibly be comfortable with in this situation, it's Zayn. He needs to stop freaking out internally and just… adapt to this the way he has everything else. "Good point."

Zayn grins, lopsided and tired. "Bed?" he yawns.

Liam flicks off the bathroom light, and Zayn practically drags him to get the one for the main room, and then. Well. Liam doesn't know the layout of the room all that well, honestly, and it's pitch black now. If he was on his own, he would just feel his way around until he bumped against the bed, then he'd climbed in.

But he's  _not_  on his own. He's fucking handcuffed to his best friend, and having the lights off makes maneuvering with the cuffs harder than predicted. Liam steps on Zayn  _twice_ , Zayn's hand bumps against his ass, and when they find the bed they both try to get on it at the same time, which ends with them tangled in a heap with Liam's arm twisted painfully behind his back, crushing Zayn's hand underneath him with it.

"You're hurting me," Liam whines. "Zayn—"

"Just – a – second," Zayn pants, moving so his leg slides between Liam's thighs, which he isn't going to think about at all. "I'm gonna roll to the left, just let me—"

Zayn easily does as he says, only they're way too close to the edge of the bed, and Liam gets only a second's warning, a whooshing of Zayn's breath to alert him, and then his wrist is being jerked painfully to the left and he cries out because  _fuck that hurts_  but he's also being yanked off the bed.

He lands in a heap beside Zayn, their hands outstretched towards each other between them. Liam's gasping for breath, Zayn's still panting, and on top of that his wrist aches and so does his back. "Maybe we should keep the light on," Liam proposes.

Zayn makes an annoyed sound.

In the end Zayn uses his phone to guide him, and then he orders Liam to climb into the bed, first, before he climbs over Liam to the other side. Just like on the floor, their connected hands lay flatly between them on the mattress, with Zayn and Liam both looking up at the ceiling as silence descends upon them.

All that effort was exhausting, and if Liam wasn't ready to sleep before, he definitely is now. "Night," he says to Zayn.

"Night," Zayn mutters, whatever good mood he'd managed to channel when they were brushing their teeth obviously gone from the moment they'd collapsed on the bed.

But if Liam's being completely, one hundred percent honest, he doesn't mind this. In fact, maybe a tiny, little part of him is enjoying this. Really, what person wouldn't enjoy being handcuffed to Zayn Malik?

 

 

-

 

Liam wakes up with a cramp in his neck, but aside from that he's extremely comfortable. Too comfortable to want to open his eyes and move, but there's a pressure on his bladder that's warning him he better get up soon.

And when he does, he realizes exactly why he was so comfortable. Zayn's still lying flat on his back, the way he had been when Liam had fallen asleep, only now Liam's – he's practically lying on Zayn. One of his legs is thrown over Zayn's, and Zayn's arm is around his back, securing him into place.

How had he fallen asleep with his head tucked into the crook of Zayn's neck like this? No, scratch that. How did they even get into this damn position?

He remembers rolling over in his sleep, muttering something about liking to sleep on his stomach, and that's about it. Maybe, if he tries hard enough, he can remember slightly annoyed grunts from Zayn, and warm hands accidentally pushing up his shirt as Zayn moved them into place, but that could have been a dream, actually.

Whatever. How they got like this isn't important. What's important is that he  _really_ has to pee, and he needs to wake Zayn up in order to do that. Crap.

Years of experience with this type of thing has never made it any easier, but Liam knows Zayn enough that he figures he can wake up the other boy up without anyone getting hurt. (He thinks. Usually they send Louis to do this, like fighting fire with fire.) As gently as he can, Liam props himself up over Zayn because that's his only option, really, given their conjoined hands and attempts to wake him up.

"Zayn," Liam tries, quiet and soft. "Zayn, wake up."

"Nmph." Zayn squeezes his eyes closed and grunts, wiggling a bit to try to throw Liam off him.

"I need to pee," Liam says, impatient. Like, he  _really_  needs to pee. "Zayn, come on, get up."

"You don't need me to do that," Zayn grumbles, throwing an arm over his face. "Let me sleep."

Liam would, if he could. But he  _can't_ , so he jerks on the handcuffs, and Zayn's wrist snaps up. "I actually do need you to do that, remember? Handcuffed? We're  _handcuffed_  to each other."

Zayn groans at him, lifting his arm an opening his eyes. "I thought maybe the handcuff thing was a nightmare," he admits. His gaze moves down Liam's arm to where they're trapped together. "Ugh. I have you in bed with handcuffs on, and I don't even get to enjoy it. This is bullshit."

Liam's cheeks heat up at that throwaway comment and what he's saying underneath his words, but he lifts a hand and yawns to cover it up. "Bathroom," he adds when he's done. "Havta go  _now_ , Zayn."

"Alright, alright."

Getting out of bed proves easier than getting in it, with the light to guide their way. There's still an awkward moment as Zayn climbs slowly over Liam, taking his sweet damn time, but neither of them fall or severely hurt themselves, so there's that.

It isn't until they're actually  _in_  the bathroom that Liam realizes what's about to happen. "You going?" Zayn demands. "You dragged me out of bed, Liam, hurry up."

Liam looks at Zayn, then the toilet, then back at Zayn. "Can we turn on the water first?"

"Oh my  _god_ ," Zayn groans. But he reaches for the tap, the sound of running water filling the room. He even turns a bit, giving Liam as much privacy as possible, given the circumstance.

It's still the most embarrassing minute of his life. It's made slightly better (or worse, depending on how you look at it) when Zayn bumps him out of the way with raised eyebrows, taking Liam's spot in front of the toilet. "You gonna watch, then?"

"Sorry, sorry," Liam says hastily. He turns around, closing his eyes until Zayn turns the tap off and starts pulling him out of the room.

Normally, this is when Liam would hop in the shower and get ready for the day. But this is  _also_  when Zayn normally calls someone to get him coffee and lights up his first cigarette, and since they can't exactly do it Liam's way (or they could, Liam thinks, but then he stops thinking because he  _can't_  shower with Zayn… can he?) apparently they're going to do it Zayn's today.

Only someone pounds on the door before Zayn can pick up the phone to order room service, and the two of them go about getting off the bed  _again_.

"Okay," Louis says, breezing into the room without invitation, "I've called around and we're being shipped another pair as quickly as possible, but since it's international it's going to take up to three days."

"Three days," Liam repeats. "We're stuck like this for  _three days_."

"Do you realize we can't even fucking shower?" Zayn demands. "That I can't even change my shirt because there's no way to get it off when we're fucking attached at the wrist?"

Louis looks down at their handcuffs, lips twitching. "Oh, how horrible. You could always, you know, shower  _together_."

Liam chokes on air, and Zayn thumps him gently on the back while glaring at Louis. "It's not funny," Zayn tells him. "This is fucked up."

Louis rolls his eyes. "You're overreacting. You should be taking advantage of this! Both of you!"

"Taking advantage of this? What's there to take advantage  _of_?" Zayn snaps at him. Liam takes a careful step back, pulling Zayn far enough away that, if he swings, he won't actually connect with anything— like Louis' face.

"Seriously?" Louis asks them both. "If handcuffing you together doesn't break the sexual tension, I don't know what will."

It gets so quiet that Liam can almost hear his heart pounding in his chest. "What – what sexual tension?" he asks.

Maybe, possibly, he knows what Louis is talking about, but… that's all in his head, isn't it? He could have sworn it was. That he was taking his own feelings for Zayn and projecting them, convincing himself that there was something more in the way Zayn looked at him sometimes, or touched him. But if Louis is picking up on it, too, then maybe Liam isn't delusional. Right?

"This is exactly why we cuffed you together," Louis huffs, lifting his chin. "You're both idiots, and until you're  _not_  idiots, I'm not uncuffing you, even  _after_  I get the key."

Liam tries so hard not to look at Zayn, to gauge how he feels about Louis thinking they have 'sexual tension' or whatever, but Zayn's not doing anything but glaring steadily at Louis, hands curling and uncurling, like he's thinking long and hard about something (probably punching him, that'd be Liam's best guess). Aside from that annoyance and anger, there aren't any other emotions on Zayn's face, in his eyes, none that Liam can pick up on anyways.

He should be surprised at the very least, right? Liam expects him to deny it, or look shocked at the prospect, at the very least. But he doesn't. What does that  _mean_?

Oh, God. He feels like one of his sisters. They both used to stay up late, whispering in the room next to him, gossiping about boys they liked, and, shit, Liam is  _not_  a teenage girl, damn it. He's not going to spend hours thinking about every little gesture Zayn makes and whether or not it means something.

"What would we have to do to prove that we're not idiots?" Zayn asks carefully, voice as smooth and irritated as the rest of him.

Louis shrugs. "That's for you two to figure out. Until then, I'm gonna go because you look like you still want to punch me."

"That's because I do."

Louis flips him off for that, but he offers Liam an almost sincerely apologetic look before he leaves. As soon as the door shuts behind him, Zayn pulls Liam back to the bed. He sinks down on it with a sigh, head in his heads, and he tugs lightly at his own hair while breathing heavily.

"Zayn."

Zayn looks up, a forced smile on his face. Liam can tell, and he has a feeling Zayn  _knows_  he can tell that it's fake, which is why he offers, "Sorry. I'm just thinking."

"About?" he pushes. Usually he doesn't. Zayn likes to come to terms with things on his own, likes to share when he's ready, not when he's prompted. But they're  _handcuffed together_. This might be one time where it's okay to ask even when Zayn doesn't offer.

But, unsurprisingly, all Zayn says is, "Nothing. It's nothing. Let's just – let's get breakfast."

 

 

-

 

"So you're all probably wondering," Liam says into the microphone, "why we're like this." He holds up his and Zayn's conjoined hands, a sardonic smile on his face. He turns pointedly to Louis. "We have some  _very_  naughty friends."

"Liam's just trying to cover up his kinky lifestyle," Louis says, leaning over to use Niall's microphone. The crowd bursts into laughter, and Liam has a feeling his eyes are as wide a saucers. Louis did  _not_  just say that. He didn't. There's no way he just said that.

"Uh, actually," Harry coughs, clearing his throat, "we were just having a little fun with them, and  _someone_  lost the key."

"Are you trying to blame  _me_ , Harry?" Louis asks. "Because if anyone's to blame, it's Zayn and Liam. They were being annoying."

"You can't just handcuff people together when they're annoying you," Liam tells him.

"And yet I did anyways."

Liam rolls his eyes, turning to find Zayn fighting off a smile, like he's trying really hard not to be amused because he's upset, but the situation is still funny to him. And Liam gets it. If he weren't the one handcuffed to someone, he'd probably find it funny, too. In fact, he would have helped. But pulling a prank and having a prank pulled on you are two different things, and Liam's having a hard time seeing the humor in any of this with his hair so greasy because he didn't get a chance to shower this morning.

It's hard to be in a bad mood on stage, though. There's too much energy, and the crowd is counting on him. He long ago learned that he can't let his personal life effect his stage life. When he's on stage, he's working. It's a job. He can't bring personal conflicts to the job, so he pushes all thoughts of it from his mind and focuses.

Only this isn't just a normal problem. This isn't like that time he and Louis got in a fight and kept snapping at each other but had to force smiles out in public and pretend like it wasn't going on. This isn't like the time when he and his girlfriend broke up and he was feeling down but had to grin and sing through it. He's trying not to bring this problem to the stage, but it's kind of hard when his problem is literally attached to his wrist.

See, the issue is that they haven't had enough time to get used to it. They keep forgetting about the situation, and it's causing problems. Liam goes to pull a dance move, and suddenly they're both falling on their asses in a tangled heap, and Zayn's glaring at him and rubbing his shoulder. Or Zayn pinches Harry's side and goes to run off before he can retaliate, and Liam's stuck trying to keep up, and he ends up walking right into Niall's outstretched microphone.

By the time the show is over, Zayn's tailbone is bruised, Liam has a scrape on his chin, and this time Liam isn't going to hold Zayn back when he tries to kill someone. He might even help him burry the body.

"You're sweaty," Zayn informs him, first thing.

Liam pulls his shirt away from his chest even though the material resists, attempting to stay stuck to his skin. Ugh. "I noticed," he says. "I need to take a shower."

Zayn raises his eyebrows, lips pressed tightly together, and it takes Liam a whole twenty seconds to get what he's trying to convey. Crap. Right. He can't do that, because they're stuck together. Or he  _could_  do that, but Zayn would have to join him, and….

"Maybe I could just stand outside," Zayn proposes. "Like, close the shower curtain and just stick your arm through."

Which could possibly work,  _maybe_ , but—"How are we supposed to get our clothes off?"

Zayn shrugs and tugs him along the room. "Scissors, I guess," he says. "I'm not spending two more days in a sweat soaked t-shirt. I feel disgusting. I need a shower. And it's not like we have to do anything the next two days but drive. The worst that's going to happen is that we won't be able to put a shirt back on, and there will be a couple more pictures of us shirtless circling the web."

"How horrible," Liam says with a grin. "I don't know if I'm willing to risk that."

"Come on," Zayn groans, gently bumping their shoulders together. "Like you don't get off on thousands of girls drooling and crying over your abs and those ridiculous arms."

"I don't get off on it!" Liam denies. But, well, he  _does_  work hard to make his body look the way it does, and maybe he doesn't mind a bit of appreciation.

"You should," Zayn tells him. "I know I would if I looked half as good as you."

Liam pokes his side. "You  _do_ ," he points out, trying not to blush at the compliment.

"I'd like homoerotic subtext for five hundred," Louis drones. "You two are horrible."

If he could, Liam would jerk away from Zayn, surprised and embarrassed. But he can't, and all he manages is to nearly trip over his own feet and pull Zayn against his side. For some reason he's painfully aware of how gently Zayn steadies him, and all he can hear is Louis' voice in his mind screaming "sexual tension".

Damn it.

Louis smugly sips at a bottle of water (somehow) and Liam allows Zayn to drag him outside, where he lights up a cigarette, protected by the large security van from the view of fans just outside the fences at the back of the venue.

Without consciously deciding to, Liam sinks into his side. His eyes drop to their hands, and he watches Zayn's fingers twitch before curling into a fist, like he was about to grab Liam's hand but thought the better of it. And Liam wonders if he would have. If they weren't them; if a picture of that wouldn't cause an uproar (both positive and negative, surely), would he?

"Want a drag?" Zayn offers, blowing out the smoke around them.

It used to bother Liam a lot, the smoking. It's something he's gotten used to over the years, though, and he sort of likes it when Zayn does it. And he started getting curious about it, too. He's still not sure if he likes doing it  _himself_ , but he definitely likes watching Zayn's fingers as he flicks the ash, likes watching his lips form an 'o' as he tries to blow out perfect circles that end up more lopsided than anything.

"Nah," he says. "I'm fine. Thanks, though."

After that it's just a quiet moment of Zayn burning down the cigarette until there's nothing but filter, and Liam scuffing his foot against the ground. That's one of the things he loves about Zayn; he's content with all of it. With the hyper moments where they jump around and wrestle and laugh so loud everyone stares, but he's also up for the quiet moments where they don't say anything at all.

The moment is ruined, of course, when Niall runs out the back door, nearly hitting Liam with it. After that, they all pile into their cars to head back to the hotel.

 

 

-

 

"If you cut me…"

"I'm not going to cut you," Liam promises, trying to sound serious and not amused, even though he is. Zayn has his eyes squeezed closed though, and he keeps nervously peeking one open and moving out of the way so Liam can't cut his shirt, and, well, it's amusing. "Just  _trust me_ ," he adds. "These scissors aren't even that sharp."

Zayn's eyes stay closed, but he somehow manages to glare at Liam like that anyways. "They're sharp enough for you to stab me in the throat with them if you slipped," he points out.

"I've got perfect balance," Liam reminds him. He pulls Zayn's shirt a bit of a ways away from his shoulder. He feels Zayn flinch when the blunt, outside edge of the cold, metallic scissors glides against his shoulder, but he stays as still as possible as Liam carefully snips away at the material until it falls open, leaving his shoulder bare. "There."

Zayn slowly bats open his eyes, and he looks over at the cut material with a sigh. "I liked this shirt," he says as he pulls his arm out of the other sleeve and then yanks the shirt down instead of over his head, until the material is pooled at his feet. "Your turn."

Liam swallows. "You know, I don't think I need a shower that bad," he says. "You go ahead. I'll be fine."

Zayn's eyebrows raise, and he cocks his head to the side. "Liam," he says gently, "I love you, babe, but I'm handcuffed to you and you  _really_  need a shower."

Self-consciously, Liam runs a hand through his hair, and he knows it looks gross. And, while he's at it, he tries to discreetly take a sniff at himself and— ugh. Okay, Zayn has a point, but… he's not exactly comfortable showering with Zayn inches away from him. Which is weird, because Liam is never not comfortable with Zayn, but he can't help it.

He really does need the damn shower, though, so he groans and hands the scissors over. Zayn instantly grins at him, tugging Liam's shirt away from his shoulder, and he can definitely see why Zayn was hesitant before. "You look way too Sweeney Todd with those things so close to my jugular," Liam can't help but comment.

Zayn's grin only grows. "Don't worry," he says. "If I stab anything, I'll make sure it's not vital."

Liam closes his eyes.

As he had done to Zayn, he feels the edge of the scissors lightly slide against his skin, and then his shoulder feels cold as the pieces of his shirt fall away. And just before he opens his eyes, a split second before he does, he feels dry lips press against his shoulder.

When he does open his eyes, Zayn is busy putting the scissors on the counter, not paying him any attention, and Liam can't tell if he made that up or not. Except there's a tingling feeling on his shoulder now, and there's no way that's his imagination. But  _why_  would Zayn do that?

He doesn't dwell on it. Zayn's kissed him hundreds of times, ranging from short and sweet on the forehead, to sloppy and wet and rough on the cheek, grabbing both sides of his face and giggling the whole time he leaned in.

"D'you want to go first, or should I?" Zayn asks.

Liam bites his tongue, debating which would be better, but Zayn's already unbuttoning his jeans. Liam can't pull his eyes away, though he knows he  _should_ , because Zayn's pushing his jeans down, stepping out of them, and doing the same with his boxers and –

"You can go first," Liam says roughly, voice cracking a bit. Fuck,  _anything_  to get Zayn away from him right now.

"Okay," Zayn says. He pulls back the shower curtain, and soon enough steam is billowing into the air, making it harder to breathe. Or, maybe that's just, you know, Zayn being naked that's making it hard to breathe. That very well could be it, because he's – maybe not perfect, exactly. His legs are sort of skinny, but Liam wants to kiss them anyways (or maybe because of that, even). And he's got this one little patch of stubble that he never, ever manages to get when he's shaving, but Liam wants to drag his thumb over it.

Liam has to turn away from him, because if he doesn't he'll keep looking and this is already awkward enough as it is. He doesn't need Zayn catching Liam checking him out to make it worse.

The shower curtain closes between them, with Zayn's arm sticking out awkwardly. Liam faces the mirror to resist temptation, but it doesn't help much because the mirror faces the shower, and he is starting to realize how thin the shower curtain is. It's white, and as it gets wet it gets more and more translucent, until it's impossible  _not_  to notice the shape of Zayn's body through it, no matter how hard he tries. (And he is, he promises himself. He's definitely trying to not see anything. That's his best friend. That would be wrong.)

Zayn suddenly jerks Liam's arm into the shower, and it's instantly soaked with water that runs a little too hot than Liam would have it if he were the one showering. "Sorry," Zayn says. "I can't shampoo my hair with one hand."

"It's fine," Liam says quietly.

Zayn grunts back at him, and Liam tries to stop thinking because now his hand keeps bumping against Zayn's body as he goes about his shower routine, and it starts innocently enough with getting soap on his hands from Zayn's shampoo, but then Zayn's lowering their arms and Liam's pretty sure that's Zayn's stomach he's accidentally brushing, but he can't be positive.

"You okay?" Zayn asks, sounding so much calmer than Liam feels.

"I'm fine."

"I got soap on you."

"It's fine."

"Is every other word that comes out of your mouth going to be fine?" Zayn teases. And then he's sticking his head out, grinning goofily at Liam with his hair lathered with shampoo and a bit dripping down the side of his face. "It's okay. Most people get worked up at the thought of my naked body."

Liam makes a gasping, choking sound before he glares at Zayn. "Don't make me push you," he threatens.

Zayn's laughing as he disappear back behind the curtain, and Liam meets his own eyes in the mirror before lowering his gaze, wondering if it's as obvious to Zayn as it is to him that he's sporting a semi right now in his jeans.

By the time Zayn's done his shower, and the bathroom smells like his shampoo and body wash, spicy and sweet at the same time, maybe a bit floral, Liam's desperate to get this over with. And he's desperate to get out of these cuffs, too, because he needs a good wank and a break from Zayn, not that Zayn did anything wrong. The opposite, actually, and that's the problem.

Zayn makes Liam pass him a towel, first, and then he steps out of the shower with it wrapped around his waist, which is nothing new. But usually he's never this close when he's like this, and all Liam can think about it stopping that bead of water from dripping down Zayn's navel by using his tongue.

"All yours," Zayn says, while using another towel to dry his hair. "You going or what?"

"Right, right." Liam nods hastily, trying to turn his back on Zayn as he strips out of the last of his clothes.

He nearly slips getting into the shower, and Zayn left the water running way too hot. It's also awkward trying to keep one arm out of the shower, arm extended so he doesn't drag Zayn's in with him. Somehow he manages, though, lathering up his hair, stealing Zayn's bodywash because he hadn't thought to grab his own, and also because he maybe likes the smell of it.

He can't stop paying attention to the way Zayn's humming just outside the curtain, and he can't stop thinking of how he looked stepping out of the shower, literally glistening from the water. When he grabs the soap and looks down, he has to bite down hard on his lip.

He's so fucking hard, is the issue. It's almost  _painful_ , and if he were alone he wouldn't hesitate to wrap a hand around himself and just deal with it. Only he's  _not_  alone, and that isn't an option, so he goes back to ignoring it as best as he can.

"Hey, Li?" Zayn calls, soft under the sound of the shower running.

"Mm?"

"What do you think Louis meant when he said they locked us together because of our unresolved sexual tension?"

Liam's eyes widen as the slippery soap bottle slides from his hand. His left foot loses its grip and his arms pinwheel out behind him for balance, but that doesn't exactly work when you're handcuffed to someone. Instead of straightening himself, all he does is jerk Zayn over the edge of the tub, and then they're both collapsing, ripping the shower curtain from its rungs, falling against the ceramic tub with a loud, teeth clattering thud and pain erupting in Liam's left elbow, shoulder, and his ass.

It gets so quiet in the bathroom after that, completely silent except for the spray of the water, making Liam's hair fall over his eyes and soaking Zayn's towel that's nearly fallen from his hips now. The cheap shower curtain separates parts of their bodies, but Zayn's bare thigh is pressed against his, and his ass is also fairly close to where Liam's no longer hard, thankfully. (But he probably will be again in seconds if Zayn doesn't move.)

Zayn coughs awkwardly, scrambling to get up, but all he manages is to slip on the wet, now slick from the dropped soap, floor of the shower. He lets out a huff of breath, and Liam can't even bother to try and help him because he's too mortified.

"Are you okay?" Zayn eventually asks.

"I'm fine," Liam says, high pitched and sounding anything but.

Worry flickers over Zayn's features, and he turns so he can cup Liam's cheek, thumb brushing lightly over it. "Are you hurt?" he demands. "Do I need to call an ambulance? Shit, tell me you didn't hit your head, Liam, I—"

"I'm not hurt," Liam assures him. "Just embarrassed."

Zayn worries his bottom lip between his teeth for a long, long moment, before bursting into laughter that shakes through his whole body. He tucks his head into the crook of Liam's neck and keeps laughing, gripping both of Liam's biceps tightly as he trembles with the force of it. "Fucking  _hell_ ," he laughs. "Did that really happen? Do we live in a fucking Jennifer Aniston movie?"

Liam tries not to join him, but he only lasts a few seconds before he gives in and giggles, closing his eyes against the spray of the water, letting his lips naturally find the place where Zayn's hair meets his forehead, pressing gently against it.

"If this  _were_  a rom-com," Zayn says, pulling back abruptly, "I think this is the part where we're supposed to kiss."

Liam's breath catches at those words, and he searches Zayn's eyes for a second while trying to think up a response that won't ruin the moment, if this  _is_  a moment.

It feels like a moment.

"Are you sure this isn't the part where we  _almost_  kiss and the audience groans in frustration because we prolong the inevitable?" he jokes weakly.

Zayn snorts at him. "Inevitable, huh? You think us kissing is inevitable?"

"I mean, uh," Liam adjusts himself, pushing his wet hair off his forehead. "I was just, um."

Zayn laughs again, only this time it's quiet, lower, and he ducks his head until water cascades down his cheeks, sticks his eyelashes together, makes his hair look pitch black where it falls over his forehead. He leans in, fingers slipping on Liam's wet skin, and says, "I'm just, um," before he fits his mouth easily against Liam's.

Just like that.  _Just like that_. It's that easy. The shower is starting to get cold as it falls over them like spring rain, and the shower curtain crinkles loudly between their bodies as Zayn pushes himself more firmly against Liam. It's wet and the kiss tastes distinctly of soap, but it's so  _simple_. The way Liam's hands automatically reach up, one securing Zayn safely on top of him, the other moving into his soft, damp hair. How perfect Zayn moves his lips against Liam's, guiding the kiss, showing him just how easy they fit together like this.

When he pulls back, Liam has to tilt his head forward to stop the shower water from getting into his mouth, and maybe to hide how red he knows his cheeks are. He can't lift his gaze just yet, can feel Zayn watching him, waiting for something.

"Huh," Zayn eventually says.

Liam blinks up at him, wiping water out of his eyes. "Huh?"

Zayn shrugs. "When I pictured that happening, it wasn't with both of us drenched and sprawled out on the floor of a shower, but it was still. Huh."

"Good or bad?" Liam has to ask.

Zayn leans closer to him again. "If I wasn't starting to freeze my balls off right now, I'd happily stay here all night and kiss you. You decide if it was a good or a bad."

"We should – we should get up," Liam says hastily, trying to push down his smile because he knows he'll end up looking like a middleschooler with their first crush if he doesn't. "I'm starting to wrinkle. And I'm still naked."

Getting up is hard, and a little dangerous. It's a wonder that one of them doesn't crack their heads open, but Liam doesn't think he'd even care because Zayn's towel falls with a wet slap to the floor, and there's so much  _touching_. His hands on Zayn's waist, Zayn's on his arm to steady him, thighs brushing, elbows knocking, bodies grazing each other accidentally or maybe on purpose.

"Does this mean one of Louis' dumbass plans actually worked?" Zayn wonders, as Liam busies himself with tying a towel around his waist.

His fingers freeze in their movements, and he looks up sharply. "Do you hear that?" he asks, and Zayn frowns at him. "It's the sound of hell freezing over."

Chuckling, Zayn reaches up to ruffle Liam's wet hair. "You're such a dork."

"You still kissed me," Liam reminds him, a tad bit smug.

"Might do it again, too," Zayn admits.

"Might?"

Zayn shrugs. "If I feel like it."

Liam leans into him, closing his eyes automatically, but Zayn's hand presses firmly against his chest. He opens his eyes to find Zayn smirking at him, and he tries not to pout because, fuck, he just wants to kiss Zayn again. This time  _better_ , longer, not with the shower running on them or bruises forming on different spots of their bodies from falling in the tub.

"You're still naked," Zayn says, as if Liam's not aware.

"Kind of convenient, really." He puts a hand on the small of Zayn's back, pulling him in. "I think this would be the part of the movie where you kiss me again and the screen fades to black, skipping to the scene where we wake up naked in bed together."

Zayn's eyes widen a fraction, like he can't believe Liam just said that, but he's already leaning in closer, lips grazing Liam's, and…

 

 

-

 

"These bunks aren't made for two people," Liam complains as he crawls into Zayn's anyways, nearly banging his head on the ceiling and sprawling half on top of Zayn because it's the only option (that's his story and he's sticking to it).

"We've still got another day before we get the key," Zayn reminds him. "We're just going to have to deal with it."

Already, he's got his hands on Liam's back, drawing patterns along his spine, grazing his nails against Liam's skin every so often in a way that makes him want to arch his back but also grind down against him, and he can't decide which.

He loves it. Loves how simple this is. They've always been close, always touched each other more than they probably should, and that hasn't changed. Only the touches are a little more pointed, a little less hesitant, neither of them worried anymore about crossing a line and pushing the other too far.

"I guess it's not so bad," he mumbles, settling for lying on top of Zayn, eyes already drooping. It's been a long day, and for some reason bus rides always make him tired. They're peaceful and the smooth, steady movements lull him within minutes. "The whole thing," he adds. "Getting handcuffed to you in the first place, it wasn't that bad. I think a part of me is a little glad it happened, actually."

"Worse things have happened," Zayn agrees. "After the shock wore off, I guess I didn't find it horrible. I did wake up with you on top of me, if I remember."

Liam chuckles against Zayn's collarbone. "I had to pee," he says defensively. "I couldn't avoid waking you up."

"I don't mind when you wake me up," Zayn whispers, and Liam has to pull back and meet his eyes because those are words he never would have imagined coming out of Zayn's mouth. "Shut up," he groans. "I just meant that, like—"

Liam kisses him. "So is that an invitation to wake you up every morning?"

Zayn grabs his hips, rolling Liam over. There's not enough room for him to go very far, because his back instantly hits the wall of the bunk, but Zayn's already fitting a leg between one of his, moving them impossibly closer together. "Depends on how you'd be waking me up," he says lowly.

Liam tries kissing him again, tongue pressing insistently against Zayn's lips until they part for him, Zayn letting him control the kiss this time, until Liam fists a hand in his hair and then he goes from slow and relaxed to crushing Liam against the wall of the bunk.

"Like that?" Liam asks when they break apart, breathless and thick.

Zayn bumps their noses together as he shakes his head. "I don't think that's good enough incentive to wake up."

There's no missing the tone in his voice, the smug challenge, the teasing edge. So Liam kisses his bare collarbone, raising his eyebrows as he leaves damp marks in the shape of his lips along Zayn's chest, then his ribs, then his stomach.

"Like this?" he asks, tonguing along the edge of Zayn's boxers.

"Fuck," Zayn breathes. "Maybe, yeah."

"What about—"

Liam jerks his head up with a cry as something smacks against the back of his neck. The only thing that stops him from cracking his head on the ceiling is Zayn grabbing him and tugging him back down at the last second before turning to find Louis grinning at them, elbows resting on the bunk, holding a rolled up newspaper.

His grin turns considering as he threateningly smacks the paper against his open palm. "Didn't think it'd work that well," he says.

"What are you  _doing_?" Zayn demands, while Liam glares at Louis, too. How exactly does he go about asking him to leave so he can suck Zayn's dick? He has a feeling that conversation won't go over well.

"I wanted to see if you two wanted to come play video games," he says, "but you're obviously too busy being disgusting."

"This is what you wanted, isn't it?" Zayn snaps. "Wasn't the whole point of handcuffing us to get us together?"

"He's got a point," Niall puts in. Liam can't see him, but he must be sitting on the bunk below them.

"Well, yes," Louis admits. "The sexual tension was terrible, but this might be worse. Be careful what you wish for and all that. I didn't think you two would be like  _this_."

Liam tries not to laugh at Zayn's annoyed snort, but he looks so put out that it's hard not to. "I seriously hate you," Zayn says to Louis, flat and angry. "A lot."

"You don't," Louis argues.

"Nah, I do."

"Hey," Niall says, getting up. His chin just rests on the bunk, which means Louis must actually be standing on the one below them. "Don't be rude." He puts an arm around Louis' shoulder. "We were just trying to help."

"Maybe we should handcuff you two together," Liam proposes, nodding pointedly at where Louis is leaning against Niall's side, pouting at Zayn. "Don't see how we're any worse than you."

"You can't do that," Louis says easily. "Harry would be lonely, and he'd unlock us."

"I don't think he would, actually," Niall says. "I think he might like the two of us cuffed together."

Louis' eyes widen, and he hopes down off the bunk, calling, "Harry! Niall has this brilliant idea to—"

Niall gives them a sheepish look before following him out, leaving them once again alone in the bunks. Liam sighs against Zayn, and almost immediately Zayn relaxes and goes back to rubbing Liam's back, up his shoulders, back down again every once in a while.

"It's always been really easy," Zayn comments, just when Liam's about to doze off on him, eyelids too heavy to keep open.

"What's always been easy?" he yawns.

"You," Zayn says. "I mean, us. Like, it's never been hard. I've never felt like I had to filter myself around you, or worry about you judging me for anything. I've never had to, like, fill silences or put effort into spending time with you. It's always just been… effortless."

Liam licks his lips but doesn't open his eyes.

He knows exactly what Zayn means, because it's been the same with him from the beginning. He gets on with the others. Louis is one of the best friends he's ever had, he couldn't live without Niall, and Harry's like his brother. But Zayn is… different, and it's not just the fact that Liam has spent the better parts of the last year wanting to kiss him. It's always been simple with Zayn, like they clicked without trying in a way that you can't fake or force, it can only happen naturally.

"Is that a good thing?" he asks anyways.

"Yeah," Zayn says. "It definitely is."

Liam grins against his shoulder and tries to get closer to him, but it's really not possible. "Good."

Liam grunts in protest when Zayn shuffles down so Liam's no longer lying on his chest, but they're instead face to face with Zayn a little too close to the bunk's edge for Liam's liking. "So how am I supposed to wake  _you_  up, then?" he asks. "How would you like me to do that?"

Their cuffed hands are trapped under their bodies, but Liam throws his other arm over Zayn's waist, pulling him in. "You don't," he says happily. "You sleep with me instead."

He can feel Zayn's nearly silent laughter, the little puffs of his breath and the way his body shakes. "Okay," he relents. "But when we wake up, we're so coming up with a plan to get those three back for handcuffing us together."

"Definitely," Liam mumbles. "Now sleep?"

"Yeah, alright."

 

 

-

 

Liam gets used to it. He gets used to having Zayn handcuffed to him. He becomes aware of every little movement, until he's naturally more careful. He knows not to move too quickly in one direction in fear of knocking Zayn off his feet (or the two of them colliding… again). He learns not to reach for anything with his right hand because it usually ends with something getting knocked over and/or broken. He gets accustomed to sleeping without trapping either of their hands under his body, and he gets used to having Zayn constantly at his side.

So when Louis grudgingly hands over the key, and Zayn unlocks them, it's a little disorienting. The first thing he does is rub at his wrist. It feels a little cold now, and it also aches a bit from the many times Zayn accidentally jerked his arm around. The second thing he does is watch Zayn move away from him, and oh.

He didn't think he'd  _miss it_ , but Zayn is suddenly on the other side of the room, grabbing his pack of cigarettes, and Liam wants to move to his side, fit himself there because it feels weird not to be anymore. But that'd probably be a bit excessive and weird, so he doesn't.

Only Zayn comes right back over to him, lighting up his smoke and linking his fingers with Liam, a soft grin on his face that disappears when Louis snaps, "Really?  _Really_? It's been a minute and you're already – No. I am so done. I am so done with the both of you, get out of my face."

"Kind of our faults, really," Harry points out. "What did we expect to happen?"

"'s a bit cute, too," Niall adds. He reaches out, grabbing Louis' hand with one of his, and Harry's with the other. "There."

Louis looks down at their joined hands, then up at Liam and Zayn. He sighs loudly in resignation. "Okay, fine," he relents, "it's a little cute. They make a nice couple. But if you two start that coupley bullshit where you can't spend five seconds without each other, or if you constantly suck face in front of all of us, I'll castrate both of you."

"Did you hear that, Liam?" Zayn asks, flicking his ash away. "I think Louis said he wants us to suck face in front of him constantly."

Liam grins, leaning into him. "I think I heard that, too."

"Don't you dare," Louis warns.

Zayn laughs, tipping Liam's chin up a bit and pushing him down into his seat. He crawls into Liam's lap, hands locked behind Liam's head, cigarette smoking clouding around them as he leans in and presses kisses along Liam's jaw, first, before finally getting to his lips.

Something hits Liam in the back of the head, and he bangs his forehead against Zayn's. Very slowly, Liam turns to find Louis grinning happily at him, and he says, "You know, we're not handcuffed together anymore. There's nothing stopping Zayn from killing you now."

Louis' eyes widen as Zayn climbs back off Liam, and he laughs as Louis bolts from the room with Zayn walking steadily behind him like a serial killer in a movie, just waiting for Louis to trip and fall so he can go in for the kill.

"We really are happy for you, you know," Harry says when they're both gone.

Liam nods, grinning without even realizing it. "Thanks," he says. "I am, too."

"Took you fuckers long enough, though," Niall says.

"How long were we betting on this happening?" Harry asks.

"Louis called it right from the beginning," Niall says.

"So did I!" Harry protests. "From when we made it through at the X Factor and we all hugged it out, but Zayn and Liam practically ignored me to hug each other."

"And every damn time someone asks a question in an interview and Liam's all 'Oh Zayn actually…' and spends the next five minutes talking about him," Niall adds.

"Or when Zayn does that creepy thing where he just  _looks_  at Liam for minutes on end," Harry says. "All the time."

Liam flushes on both his and Zayn's behalf. "We're not that bad," he argues, "… are we?"

Niall and Harry exchange a look. "Yeah, you are," Niall says.

That should probably bother him, a little, but it really doesn't. What does bother him is that he's liked Zayn for a long time now, and apparently that time was wasted because those feelings were reciprocated. But fuck if he doesn't plan on making up for that wasted time.

When Zayn and Louis get back (Louis with a scraped chin, which no one questions but Harry frets over) Liam kicks them all out of his room – or, his and Zayn's room, technically. He doesn't want to be that guy that abandons his friends as soon as he gets in a relationship, but he thinks he's allowed to just this once, considering that said friends  _did_  handcuff him to another person.

"Do you ever think about the fact that we can do anything?" he asks Zayn, lying back on their bed. "I mean, we have enough money that we could do  _anything_."

"Not  _anything_ ," Zayn argues. "Almost, though."

Liam nods slowly, staring up at the ceiling. "I want us to go on a date," he says quietly.

Zayn doesn't answer for so long that Liam thinks he never will. But then the bed dips, and Zayn flops back so the mattress bounces for a second before he settles in beside Liam. "A date," he repeats.

"Yeah." He can't look at Zayn just yet because part of him fears rejection. It's not like they're  _technically_  dating. It might seem like they are, but it's easy to share kisses and sweet words behind closed doors; it's whole other thing to show it to the world. "I do."

"Huh," Zayn says, just like when they kissed. "What do you have in mind?"

Liam turns his head and grins. "Is that a yes?"

"Depends."

Liam thinks on it for a long time. He didn't actually have a plan, is the thing. All he knows is he wants to go on a date with Zayn, details are unimportant. "We could do anything, though," he says again. "I mean, really, the possibilities are endless."

Zayn grabs his hand and gives him a considering look. "I'd rather just pick up takeaway and veg out in the room while watching movies, though."

He means it. Liam doesn't have to hear the sincerity in his voice, see the earnestness in his eyes. He knows Zayn enough without any of that to know that he completely means it. Zayn's idea of a date for them wouldn't be a fancy dinner at an expensive restaurant. It wouldn't be somewhere public where they'd have to share each other with the rest of the world, or put on an act that they all automatically adopt now, one that's similar enough to the real them only filtered, polished.

Liam kisses him for it, and Zayn allows it for a second before pushing him back and asking, "What was that for?"

Liam shrugs, grins. "Just for you, being you," he admits. "I like who you are."

Zayn snorts at him. "I like who you are, too, dork." He scoots a little closer, head on Liam's chest. "Love it, actually," he adds, taking a pause before continuing with, "and I think this would be the part of the movie where I tell you I love you, and then we kiss until we fall off the bed, adding a bit of humor to an otherwise serious scene."

Liam very carefully, very calmly turns to look at him. "What was that?"

Now Zayn shrugs. "I've been in love with you for years," he says casually.

" _Zayn_."

"Too soon?" Zayn asks, teasing but looking genuinely worried that he'd screwed up. "Because I can't take it back. And I mean it. But if you're not ready to hear it yet, we can just pretend that—"

Liam tugs him into a kiss that feels a lot like saying 'I love you' right back.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is just smut. This entire thing. It's just. It's just smutty bottom liam and handcuffs and yeah.

 

It's as they're moving his things into Zayn's apartment just after finishing the tour that it happens. He's bending down, dumping a few pieces of his clothing into Zayn's middle drawer, and he doesn't hear Zayn come up behind him. He's too busy trying to fold one of his t-shirts and lay it flatly in the drawer to hear the door creak open, or Zayn's footsteps come up behind him. He's too preoccupied to hear Zayn's breath, but he feels it on the back of his neck just before Zayn grabs both of his wrists and pulls them behind his back.

Liam straightens up but does nothing to pull out of Zayn's grasp. He's not holding on tightly, just has his fingers softly wrapped around Liam's wrists, and something about it sparks familiarity inside Liam.

"What are you doing?" Liam snorts. "I'm trying to put my stuff away."

"When I asked you to move in with me," Zayn says, "I thought there'd be a lot less organizing my drawers and a lot more sex."

Liam snorts again, but he relaxes his hands in Zayn's grip. "Sex later," he bargains. "I'm almost done."

"Uh-uh," Zayn says. He hears a rustling, and then Zayn's lips are on the back of his neck. "Stay still," he orders, and Liam feels something brushing his wrists and it hits him as Zayn closes the second cuff around his right wrist.

He pulls out of Zayn's grasps, eyes wide, whirling to face him. He tries to tug his hands apart, but they're locked behind his back. The handcuffs are as strong as Liam remembers, and no matter how many times he tugs at them they don't budge.

"Zayn," he warns, eyes narrowing. He cranes his neck, trying to see behind him, and— "Wait, are these the same cuffs?"

Zayn grins at him. "Maybe," he admits. "Might have convinced Louis to let me have them."

"If you lose the key the way he did," Liam starts to threaten, but he cuts off when Zayn steps closer to him.

"I won't lose it," he promises. "But I'm not uncuffing you until I'm done with you."

Liam swallows as Zayn leans in, tugging Liam's bottom lip between his teeth, and Liam lets out a low hiss because, fuck, he likes that. He likes the sharp sting and the softening of Zayn's eyes, the contrast in the actions and the way Zayn looks at him like he'd never, ever want to break Liam, but he'd like to push Liam pretty damn close to snapping anyways.

It was so easy to fall into this with Zayn, just like everything else with Zayn since nearly the moment Liam met him. There isn't anyone else in the world that Liam would allow to slap handcuffs on him without kicking up a storm, but with Zayn he only sighs and waits to see where this is going to go.

He trusts Zayn, is the thing. Zayn knows him better than anyone else in the world, sometimes more than he thinks he knows himself. He knows how Liam works, knows that sometimes Liam needs to hold him down and suck bruises into his skin because he has to share Zayn with the entire world on a daily basis, and sometimes he has to remind himself and everyone else just who goes home with Zayn every night. But he also knows that Liam needs that, too, needs Zayn's reassurances and bruising fingertips to remind him that, yeah, Liam belongs to Zayn just as much as Zayn belongs to him.

"Babe," Zayn says, using a finger to tip Liam's chin up just a bit, "you're gonna suck my cock, yeah?"

And… oh. Liam isn't exactly sure what he thought was going to happen, but— oh. "Am I," he says flatly.

Zayn grins at him. "I've got the key hidden and there's no way you'll find it," he says. "So unless you want to keep wearing those cuffs for days…"

"I should have known this would be a kink of yours," Liam says, rolling his eyes even though he can already feel himself straining against his jeans, hard and painful.

That earns him another grin, just before Zayn kisses him. It's become one of his favourite things in the world, kissing Zayn. He could (and has) do it for hours, until his lips are raw and his chin is burning from Zayn's stubble. He doesn't get that tonight, though, because Zayn pulls back almost instantly, lips grazing Liam's jaw before he breathes damply against Liam's ear again.

"You be good for me," he whispers, "and I'll make it good for you, I promise."

Liam shivers at that, how the fuck could he not?

It didn't take him very long to learn that Zayn gets like this in bed, and it didn't take him very long to learn that… he likes it. A lot. Way more than he thought he would, because he's always sort of been the dominant one. He's not used to someone who meets him so perfectly in the middle, who takes but can give just as well. This, like everything else, is just another place where he and Zayn fit perfectly. Liam doesn't mind not always being in control all the time, and, well, there are a lot worse things than being ruined by Zayn Malik, honestly.

So he lets Zayn kiss him again, and he bites down on his own lip when Zayn teasingly slowly undoes the button on his own jeans, sliding them down his hips. He's wearing a pair of Liam's boxers underneath, which isn't all that surprising. Zayn has a  _lot_  of clothes, but for some reason he never wears his own.

With no encouraging on Zayn's part, Liam sinks to his knees on Zayn's plush carpet, a little off balance for a second until he shuffles a bit. Zayn's eyes go wide, and that's satisfying, knowing that he riles Zayn up just as much as Zayn does to him.

"I was gonna get you on the bed first," Zayn admits, "but this is really hot."

Liam bites at Zayn's thigh through the boxers. "I'm cuffing you to the bedpost tomorrow," he warns. "Just so you know."

"Promise?"

Liam doesn't answer. He's too busy mouthing along Zayn's length, damping the material of his boxers. Maybe he won't admit it out loud but he likes this, too. He likes the weight of Zayn on his tongue and he likes watching Zayn get weak from nothing but his mouth. It's beautiful, it really is, because Zayn doesn't get vulnerable for just anyone, but he's never afraid to be for Liam and Liam loves him for that.

It's not the most comfortable, being on his knees with his hands cuffed behind his back, but he works with it anyways, kissing Zayn's thighs as Zayn tangles a hand in his hair, just brushing it off his forehead, relaxed and slow like he's prepared to make this last the whole night.

Liam whimpers at him, if only because he knows how to break Zayn's resolve and that usually does it. And it does this time, too, because his fingers tighten in Liam's hair and he breathes, "I think you're more into this than I am."

Zayn pushes his boxers down until he's fully naked while Liam's completely dressed. Something about that makes Liam harder in his jeans, but he can't even press a hand down on himself to relieve the tension a bit, and he suddenly realizes just how fucked he is, just how much control Zayn has over him. (Which probably shouldn't make him whimper again, but, well.)

Once more, Zayn tips his chin up, thumb brushing gently at Liam's jaw as he fists himself loosely. "You sure you want this?" he asks first. "Because I can uncuff you if you really don't. I'm happy with—"

" _Zayn_ ," Liam snaps.

Zayn chuckles. "Yeah, alright," he says. "Open your mouth."

Liam does, and Zayn's instantly nudging his cock against Liam's lips, careful and gentle as always. Liam wastes no time, wrapping his lips tightly around the head, swirling his tongue around the tip. The faster he breaks Zayn down, the faster he'll get out of his own clothes and Zayn'll let him come, which is why he sinks lower instantly, not drawing it out the way he usually likes to.

"Fuck," Zayn groans, hand in Liam's hair again. "Deeper, babe," he urges. "Come on, Liam."

Liam does, until Zayn's pushing against his throat, hard and a little uncomfortable but not bad. His eyes water but he pushes through it anyways, swallowing him down, down, down until his nose is brushing Zayn's skin and Zayn's stomach clenches as he holds his breath.

He's travelled the world, Liam. He's seen almost everything there is to see, but nothing compares to the way Zayn looks when Liam tilts his head to meet his gaze. His lip is caught between his teeth, almost painfully, and his eyes are heavily lidded, lashes heavy and long. He makes a sound low in his throat when Liam drags his tongue along the underside of his cock, and his lips part in a soundless groan that Liam grins at.

His hand presses at the back of Liam's head, urging him back down again, and Liam lets him. Lets him pull Liam back up again, too, over and over again until Liam's panting around his cock and Zayn's eyes are squeezed closed and Liam feels ridiculously close to coming and he's not even undressed yet.

Zayn steps back abruptly, and Liam's lips tingle without the contact anymore. "Can't come yet," he explains, but he looks like he really wants to. "Stand up."

"A little help?" Liam asks when he nearly falls over. Handcuffs may seem like a good idea, but they're sort of impractical. They throw his whole balance off, and he needs a steadying hand on his hip to keep from falling over.

As soon as they're both sure he's not going to faceplant, Zayn starts unbuttoning his shirt with fumbling fingers that give away just how wrecked he already is, as does the sweat on his forehead, slicking his hair down a bit, strands of it sticking to his skin.

"Probably should have got you naked first," Zayn realizes when he can't push Liam's shirt off his shoulders.

Liam snorts a laugh while Zayn undoes his jeans for him. "Didn't really think this through, did you?"

"Not really," Zayn admits. He pushes Liam's jeans down his hips, and Liam obediently steps out of them. "All I could think about was you in handcuffs and the rest wasn't really important."

He grips Liam's hips, walking him backwards towards the bed. He pushes Liam onto it, not roughly, just a soft guidance that Liam falls into, and then he tugs off Liam's socks for him before grabbing lube out of the drawer beside his bed.

He leaves it behind as he leans over Liam, kissing at his neck, wet and warm. "Do you wanna ride me, or do you wanna get on your knees?"

Liam closes his eyes. "What do you want?" he asks.

Zayn shrugs. "You," he says simply. "Not really fussed on how."

Lying on his back isn't exactly comfortable because the cuffs dig into him. He doubts he'd have enough balance to ride Zayn like this. So he nudges Zayn off him and moves up the bed, lying down on his stomach with his legs spread wide. There's no embarrassment in it, and there hasn't been since the first time they did this, really. Zayn's the one who pulls the covers over them afterwards, who hides behind a towel or insists on getting dressed. Liam, on the other hand, has no qualms about being naked in front of Zayn at all.

"Liam," Zayn whines, and he looks over his shoulder to find Zayn standing just beside the bed, eyes roaming over him, pumping himself slowly. "You're obscene, d'you know that?"

"Hurry up," is all Liam says back. He's so freaking hard, and he can already feel himself dampening the sheets underneath him. Plus, patience has never been one of Liam's strong suits.

Zayn laughs at him, but it's low and rough. The bed dips, and Liam licks at his lips as he feels Zayn settle himself somewhere between Liam's spread legs. He waits for it, for the cool brush of lube slicked fingers but instead Zayn's hands move up his thighs, kneading his flesh. He moves them up to Liam's ass, gripping it tightly for a moment before massaging his thighs again.

Teasing. He's  _teasing_  Liam, like he doesn't have enough control already. "Zayn," he pants, cheek resting on the bed. "Please."

Finally Zayn stops, hands disappearing for a second. He swoops down to nip at the small of Liam's back before he spreads Liam's cheeks a bit, thumb brushing his hole. It's the lightest touch, barely there, but Liam pushes back against it anyways, a whine bubbling up in his throat.

Zayn's resulting chuckle cuts off abruptly, and Liam's eyes close again as a finger tentatively pushes into him. It's hesitant at first, the soft drag of Zayn's finger in and out of him. But soon enough he's pushing another in alongside it, and Liam's biting down on his tongue against the burn and stretch, first, and then the shuddering pleasure when he brushes over Liam's prostate.

"You look good like this," Zayn comments. "Gonna come before I fuck you?"

"No," Liam says, but he's not really sure. If Zayn keeps –  _fuck_  – if he keeps hitting that spot then Liam just might, but he's trying not to.

"Good," Zayn says.

When he pushes in a third finger, stretches Liam even more, Liam feels too hot all of a sudden. He writhes on the bed, this horribly embarrassing sound slipping from his lips. Zayn's too good with his fingers, way too good, and he fucking knows it, too. " _Zayn_."

He tilts his head, straining to meet Zayn's eyes. But Zayn's too busy watching his fingers, with his mouth hanging open and his tongue pressed against his top lip in concentration, and Liam nearly comes just from that sight alone. His hips feebly jerk against the bed helplessly, and Zayn's eyes snap to his. His eyebrows raise, and he doesn't say anything but Liam gets it.

"Yeah," Liam agrees. "Come on. Please, fuck, please."

Zayn nods hastily, fingers carefully moving out of Liam. Zayn disappears from the bed, and Liam frowns at him as he makes his way across the room to pull open the bedroom door.

Liam's heart sinks into his stomach. "You're not leaving me like this, right?" he calls. "You better not, Zayn, or I swear—"

Zayn comes right back, key in hand. He climbs back onto the bed, mattress groaning under him. "Unlocking you," he explains. "As much as I like you like this, I want you on your back. Want to see your face."

Liam's hands are freed in seconds and he immediately rolls over, flexing his hands once while Zayn tosses the stupid handcuffs away. And then he grabs Zayn's hips, rolling them over, pinning Zayn to the bed. He finds the lube where Zayn left it, popping the lid and slicking up his hand. He wraps it around Zayn's prick, smirking when Zayn tips his head back and lets out a groan.

"I love you," Zayn says, cupping the back of Liam's neck. Liam lets himself be pulled down, fits their mouths together for a moment but not much longer.

He pulls back, breaking the kiss first because he needs Zayn in him. He needs to come so fucking badly, and Zayn doesn't look like he's arguing as he lines himself up with Liam, freehand on Liam's hip, moving him easily into place.

Liam's head tilts back as Zayn pushes into him. No matter how many times they do this it's always mind blowing to Liam, how the pain melds seamlessly into something fucking perfect, how Zayn's fingers were meant to press into his hips like that, and how full he feels.

Zayn can be noisy, sometimes, but Liam almost likes him better like this. Likes how Zayn holds his breath and digs his fingers in a little too hard, throat clamping down on a moan as Liam lifts himself up and fucks himself back down onto Zayn's cock, like it's almost too much, like he can't make a sound because it's  _too much_. They're both sweaty by now, and his nails are leaving red marks on Zayn's chest as he rides him, the sound of the headboard cracking against the wall creating a melody with his own breathless gasps.

Zayn pulls out of him in one fluid motion, flipping them over and pushing back into him almost instantly. Liam claws at his back, wrapping his legs around Zayn's hips as they snap forward. He's hitting that spot in Liam almost every time, and there's a smear of precome on Liam's stomach from where his cock bounces against it with every thrust.

Part of Liam wishes this could last forever, that he could live in these moments with pleasure waving over him and Zayn looking down at him like Liam's his whole world. But he also doesn't, because he's so fucking close and he just needs a little more to tip over the edge, and he's so close to it that he's desperate.

Zayn gets that. He nods, pushing one of Liam's legs up over his shoulder. "Go on," he urges, voice tight. "I'm so close, babe," he says, turning to press a kiss to Liam's ankle. "You first."

Liam wastes no time, wrapping a hand around himself and curling the other in the sheets. It's pathetic almost, how quickly he loses it. A handful of quick jerks and he's coming so hard he can't see straight, can't think straight. The only thing in that moment is Zayn and the place where their bodies meet.

Zayn holds on better than he does, but Liam can see him losing it even as he whimpers from oversensitivity. Zayn's leaning down, pushing Liam's leg until his knee is almost pressed against his chest so he can pant into Liam's mouth, bite at his jaw. "You're the most amazing thing I've ever seen," he says, and Liam would tell him to look in a damn mirror if he had any breath left in his lungs.

When Zayn comes, it's with Liam's name ripped from his throat. He lets Liam's leg drop afterwards as he pulses inside him, collapsing on Liam's chest. All Liam can do is rub at his back and focus on breathing himself because he forgets how to do that around Zayn fairly often.

Eventually it starts to get uncomfortable. He gently pushes Zayn off him, and Zayn rolls over until he's flat on the bed, allowing Liam to get up. Zayn never does. He's a lazy bastard, and he's lucky Liam loves him because Liam's the only reason they don't lie around in their come after sex.

He still looks fucked out when Liam comes back, offering him a clean, damp towel. When they're no longer messy, Liam gives Zayn a look until he groans and wiggles under the blankets, holding up one corner for Liam to climb in after him.

"Good?" he asks, quiet and casual, like.

Liam grins, tucking his head into the crook of his neck. "Obviously."

"Not mad that I handcuffed you?"

Liam pushes himself up, and he turns to look at where those blasted handcuffs lay on the floor, abandoned. "Not really," he admits. He chews his lip for a moment, contemplating. "We should probably thank Louis for those, actually."

Zayn nods, tracing patterns on Liam's back. "Probably. We owe a lot to him because of those damn handcuffs."

"But we're not going to do that, are we?"

"Definitely fucking not."


End file.
